I suck at titles. c:

The fresh tears made a trail of black tinted salt water as they traipsed down my face. The nausea made it's rounds as I held back the urge. The regret oh so evident, my face turned to a stove burner. Resisting the urge to scream is possibly the hardest thing to do. With my Starbucks drink about to make a reappearance, I contort myself into fetal position and begin to rock back an forth. I feel like the true monstrosity that I've turned into.